


Introductions

by BeignetBenny



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Historical Hetalia, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Post WW2, Reincarnation, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5068309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeignetBenny/pseuds/BeignetBenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How many times would he need to introduce himself?</p><p>Centuries ago, it was said with a large smile and sparkles in his eyes. “Ciao, I’m Italy! I live with Austria. What’s your name?”</p><p>Then it became. “I’m… I’m Italy. Don’t you remember me? We used to be the best of friends.” With tears close to spilling out.</p><p>Only to become a greeting that came more frequent. Instead of sparkles, his eyes became dull. Forced optimism slinked its way towards faking seriousness when he would truthfully be fighting back a full breakdown. “Kingdom of Italy,” He’d say, sticking his hand out to shake it. “Or Feliciano Vargas. Whichever is easier to remember.” Remembering became a cruel joke between the two.</p><p>(Alternative Title: What happened to the soul that you used to be?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Introductions

How many times would he need to introduce himself?

Centuries ago, it was said with a large smile and sparkles in his eyes. “Ciao, I’m Italy! I live with Austria. What’s your name?”

Then it became. “I’m… I’m Italy. Don’t you remember me? We used to be the best of friends.” With tears close to spilling out.

Only to become a greeting that came more frequent. Instead of sparkles, his eyes became dull. Forced optimism slinked its way towards faking seriousness when he would truthfully be fighting back a full breakdown. “Kingdom of Italy,” He’d say, sticking his hand out to shake it. “Or Feliciano Vargas. Whichever is easier to remember.” Remembering became a cruel joke between the two.

It started when he left. Holy Rome had plans of becoming bigger. Only to be shredded and tossed to the side under Napoleon. Italy had met a few of the people who had once been part of his true love, but none of them were enough. In 1860, Italy met Germany. Blue eyes, blonde hair, he knew that Germany was his long lost Holy Rome. But, Germany didn’t. So he kept it hidden. Their relationship blossomed again. They were almost where they were before Holy Rome left before the Great War. As soon as Italy had agreed to join the triple alliance, Germany had changed. He couldn’t do it anymore, and he turned his back on him.

Then he was gone. Again. Another introduction. That Germany was rougher. His hands calloused as if he worked with his hands. Scars littered his body like he had already gone through the war that had yet to start. He looked stronger, but his eyes were soft. He had remembered. Almost. Not what they had. But that it was Italy who destroyed it.

The _Third Reich_ Germany was the worst of them. Yet, he was the one that Italy loved the most. He was broken, and Italy swore that he could be the one to fix him. So what if he was the one to convince his boss to join the Axis? Who cares if he put himself in danger so many times just to those piercing blue eyes meeting with his own. A stern, yet soft look.

Who cares if he was the one to break it off the second time?

Italy couldn’t do it anymore. His people couldn’t do it. The war hurt him more than he thought. Germany wasn’t worth that much death and destruction, so he surrendered. What happened to his people was Germany’s fault. Italy wouldn’t be there to cheer him on from the sidelines anymore.

That was, until he saw himself on the allies side. Staring at his true love kneel on the floor, held down by Britain, Russia, and France as America stood behind him. A pistol pressed against the nape of Germany’s neck. Italy remembered what he said like it was yesterday.

“Wait!” He took a step forward, holding his hands up in surrender again. All the nations looked up at him in confusion or surprise. Germany’s eyes were wide, the steel that they once held had been melted away and were replaced with a raging ocean. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I get that you were on his side most of this,” America said, not moving the gun away from Germany’s head. “That doesn’t mean we’re gonna go easy on him. He knows what he did.”

“He’s been destroyed enough times,” He said, trying to keep his voice level. “He doesn’t deserve to be killed like this again.”

“Do you have another idea?” Russia questioned.

Italy remembered praying that Germany wouldn’t hate him for saying it. “Prussia.” The panicked look coming from Germany had almost made him retract the idea. “The land is just as much his as it is Germany’s.”

He didn’t speak to Germany after that. Hell, he barely spoke at all. For years he didn’t even risk stepping into the West, much less heading to the East where Berlin was. But, when he did he wasn’t expecting the greeting he got.

“I never thanked you.”

For a moment, he was stunned into silence. “Why would you thank me?”

“You saved my brother, and you saved me. And for that, I am grateful.” The smile he wore wasn’t forced. It was gentle. The same smile that he had seen centuries before.

Italy had almost called him Holy Rome that day.

**Author's Note:**

> This is from my historical hetalia blog, actually. It is called oneforthehistxry books if you would like to check it out! More stories will come, but they will be on that tumblr first. So if you want to read them, you should follow! Thank you for reading!


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